


Audible

by ritsuko



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Control, M/M, Masturbation, Other, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritsuko/pseuds/ritsuko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The walls are too thin, for a Vulcan's ears anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a fill for [Star Terk Into Darkness Kink Meme](http://strek-id-kink.livejournal.com/1695.html?thread=797855#t797855)

If there is one thing that Spock prides himself in, it is his superior abilities. Strength, intelligence. Even his enhanced senses give him no small amount of pride. If there is one thing that his Vulcan heritage has given him, it is an advantage over most others in Star Fleet. But there are times when those senses definitely do not work out to his advantage. 

It is not easy having his room next to the captain's, but it is a necessary bit of protocol that he has found no loophole for. As awkward as it can get with all of the 'dates' that Jim brings back to his quarters, it is nothing compared to a night like this.

"Awwww yeah, you like that don't you? Yeah, you get over here and wrap your lips around it, show me how much you love it." Jim's voice croons through the wall. A normal human would not be able to hear the tawdry tones through the three foot thick wall, but Spock's ears are more delicate and receptive than a human's. They have helped him in the past to determine students cheating on exams, and hushed signals for action on missions.

Now they alert him to the faint fapping sounds of skin on skin, Jim's bed creaking slightly from many nights of overuse. Spock squeezes his eyes shut in the dim light of his room, irritated by this intrusion on his late night report work. He grimaces at the bedside clock. 0200 hours. Sighing, he sets his PADD down, about to leave the room, perhaps for a walk until Jim quiets down.

"Aww yeah, suck it Spock!" The Vulcan stiffens at the use of his name, but the blonde in the next room continues, relishing his fantasy. "Mmmm, you love that, don't you? Your pretty lips look especially good around my cock. Mmmmmm. . ."

The Vulcan rises from his chair and silently walks closer to the wall separating the rooms. The creaking is more frantic now, the captain moaning in beautiful husky tones. Spock swallows audibly as the creaking and groans become chaotic. 

_This is lewd. Inappropriate. I should not be listening. . ._ But the way the captain is keening on the other side of the wall made it hard for Spock to move an inch. He can see him in his mind, rocking hurriedly into his hand, on all fours, cock stiff and balls swollen. _I. . . I should leave_ Spock reasons, but then Kirk groans throatily.

"You want to?" A chuckle. "I don't see why not." The Vulcan's ears twitch at a new sound. . . a bottle being opened. . . something being lathered on fingers. . .

Spock gasps nearly at the same time Jim hisses in pleasure. In his proximity to the wall, it is obvious that the other man is slicking a finger into his ass, pistoning back and forth as his breath starts to become ragged. Hitching breaths tell him another finger has joined in, scissoring and corkscrewing until the captain is panting in unabashed pleasure. He can tell that Jim has found his prostate by the way the bed creaks, his fingers schlick, his cock pumps, his moans double. "Yes. . . yes Spock, fuck me harder. C'mon commander, show me what you got. Yeah. . . yeah baby. . ." 

The Vulcan swallows, the captain's dirty talk bringing a slight green blush to his cheeks.

"Shit Spock! I'm gonna. . . SPOCK!" Jim croons, and the other room goes impossibly still, bed settling, no sounds save for Kirk's heaving breath and rapid heart rate.

It seems like ages before there is any sound from the other room, a small half contented, half longing sigh, and then slight footsteps padding to the bathroom. Spock finally lets out a breath, stiffly realizing that he now has an erection. Slowly, he makes his way to the bed, glancing to the clock. 0234. It seems hard to believe he has been listening to Jim work himself on his fingers while pretending to copulate with his commander. Spock lays back onto his pillow, staring at the ceiling, willing his erection to go away, to no avail. 

It seems sleep will not come easily tonight. . .


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three nights later. . .

Three nights later and it seems that the Captain will not tire anytime soon with his latest Vulcan bedtime fantasies. It has been a long day, and it is made even longer by a horny blonde in the next room, unwilling to go to bed without pleasuring himself. Again.

Spock notes the time. 0314. The captain has been pleasuring himself for 45 minutes. He sounds close, and the Vulcan is slightly mortified with himself that he can recognize the sound of Jim being ready to come. 

"Aw, god, Spock, shit! Please. . . please. . . fuck!" Jim mewls in desperation, and Spock stares at the wall with a look of determined concentration. It is maddening, the pleading tone in that voice, that pulls out a visceral reaction in his body that no night with Nyota could ever have competed with.

He is hard, embarrassingly so, and has spent the last thirty odd minutes just trying to will his erection away, to be a good first officer and ignore the silken sound of his name on Jim's lips, tries to omit all of the descriptions that the blonde is giving him so he can see the gorgeous picture before him even with a wall between them.

"Please. . . please Spock! I want you to come in me. Please!" The Vulcan's cock twitches and he grimaces, trying desperately to stop himself. 

He is so hard. . . and there is a wall between the two rooms. And it is unlikely that the Captain will hear him, as he can hear the other man.

It takes only a moment, a small chink in his armor before he reaches his hand into his sleep pants, and pulls out his dick. It pulses in his hand, thick with need. It is very seldom that he will masturbate, and usually only in the sonic shower, where the cleanup is instant and easy. Still, he cannot help but feel a small satisfaction at the feel of his fingers stroking himself slowly. Jim's noises in the other room become more frantic, and the Vulcan finds himself moving to the wall, leaning as close to it as he possibly can. He knows that it is irrational, but his ears twitch at the throaty moans from the Captain's quarters.

"Spock. . . Spock. . ." His name is like a mantra that the captain can't stop chanting, and Spock presses the side of his face to the wall, ear flush to the siding. His hand picks up tempo, settling into a rhythm that matches the creaking of the captain's bed. He can see it in his mind's eye, Jim on his back, one hand on his swollen cock, the other reaching around. Fingers knuckle deep in his ass, scissoring and pistoning in a wanton haze. His back arching off the bead, nipples peaked, sweat shining on his torso. Those eyes. . . those lips. . . Spock bites his bottom lip. His hand journeys from root to tip, corkscrewing all the way up. 

What Jim must look like. . . What Jim must feel like. . .

"Spock. . . I'm going to. . . please. . . come with me!" Jim whines, and the creaking of the bed takes on a new frenzy, one that the logical part of Spock's mind tells him that the bed is going to break before long. But he cares nothing for logic at this moment, just the sounds coming from the captain's mouth, and the vigor of his own hand upon his cock. When Jim finally cries out Spock's name in his release, the Vulcan ejaculates hard onto the wall with a barely audible groan. He stares at the wall at his come, slowly sliding downwards as he pants lightly. He can hear Jim in the other room, settling. Spock doesn't move a muscle, just stares down at his own mess and feels immediately guilty and disgusted with himself. That he could do such a thing with the other man not knowing. . . it didn't matter what was going on in the other room. It was not for the Vulcan to know. 

Finally, after he can hear the soft snores of the blonde coming from the other room, he straightens and makes his way to his personal bathroom to grab a towel. He catches sight of himself in the mirror and winces. How could he do such a thing?

He returns to the other room and cleans the spot, fully knowing that the daily cleaning robot sweep of his room will sanitize any area that may seem off. With heavy feet and a heavy heart, he deposits the towel into his hamper and then crawls into his bed.

Spock cannot sleep. Every time he closes his eyes, Jim's orgasm wracked face is etched into his eyelids.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Distractions. Irritations.

Every night Spock listens to Jim masturbating in the other room. At first, he felt shame at touching himself at the same time as his captain, but it soon dissipated at the logic that he in turn was being used by being the object of Jim's fantasies. Very thin logic, but Spock holds to it firmly, as it was the only way he could reason that his voyeurism was in some way acceptable.

"Spock, I'm going to-" Jim keens in the other room, and Spock imagines the other man, writhing and panting, full of his cock. A groan rips from his throat.

"Jim." It is a hoarse whisper, all he can manage, although he knows that while he can hear the other man through the wall, there is no realistic way that he can be heard as well. Then he hears the other man's moaned release, and his own come is again coating the wall. Although it is not logical, he feels some pride in marking the partition between him and Jim, since he cannot mark the blonde. Gritting his teeth, he shakes that thought away. 

Kirk is his captain. This must stop.

"Oh Spock. . ." The other man moans from the other room, and the Vulcan places his hand on the wall, sighing inwardly. 

It must stop. But his captain is making it very hard to.

~*~*~*~

". . . Spock, did you hear me?"

The Vulcan starts at his station, slightly embarrassed as he turns and looks into the slightly bemused eyes of his captain. "Sir?"

"I asked you if you'd finished running the diagnostic yet?" Jim's smirk widens a little, and Spock fights to keep his face neutral. He cannot believe that he has become unfocused in his task, but it must be true if half of the bridge is staring at him as if the world is ending. Quickly, before he can register any form of emotion, he reports his findings.

~*~*~*~

"Harder, Spock, harder!" Jim grunts through the wall, and Spock clenches his jaw, eyes shut tight wrapped in a mental image as tight as his fist around his cock.

_The blonde pressed hard against him, firm ass rubbing wantonly around his cock, tight and hot and sweet and amazing. Spock growls under his breath. "Are you enjoying this, captain?"_

"Yes, yes! More! Ahhh fuck Spock, please!" Jim whimpers, and the Vulcan plays more of the scene in his mind.

_He turns him over, and Jim wraps his legs around the other man, still speared to the hilt on Vulcan cock. His pupils are blown, eyes lidded, plush lips swollen. Spock takes them into his own mouth, biting and sucking, eliciting another groan from the blonde as he pounds mercilessly into the other man. Jim is so tight and feels like he was made for Spock, only for his cock. His body sings underneath his fingertips._

"Augh, I'm. . . I'm gonna. . . SPOCK!" The captain shrieks his orgasm, and Spock bites the back of his hand to keep his own from roaring out gutturally, his seed coating the wall. Panting for breath, he stares down at it. It could have been inside Jim. Or all over him. Instead of on this stupid wall.

He should be coating Jim in his come. It would look good on those soft, pink lips.

~*~*~*~

It isn't like him to play with his food, and yet, here he is, lifting delicate spoonfuls of Plomeek soup and upturning the utensil so it dribbles back into the bowl. Spock has been hard pressed to find his appetite lately.

Jim plops into the seat across from him, setting down a tray with a burger and fries with a loud clack. He is jovial, grin showcasing bright pearly teeth, and the first officer cannot help but stare.

". . . excited for shore leave, are you?" Spock barely manages to catch the last of the captain's words, realizing with a start that he has just been holding his spoon in midair for the last couple of seconds while the other man has been chatting away, and what's worse is that Doctor McCoy has joined them without the Vulcan even realizing. Quickly, Spock dips his spoon back into the broth and brings it to his lips, nodding to whatever Jim has been saying. The blonde just lets out a throaty chuckle, picking up long french fries and stuffing them into his mouth. Spock cannot help but watch the way the other man sucks salt off of his fingertips, making appreciative noises in the back of his throat. For a moment, the Vulcan wonders what the consequences of pushing the other man onto the table and fucking him senseless might be, and then notices the doctor staring at him. Quickly, the raven haired man stares down at his soup, wondering when all of the teachings of his home world became irrelevant to him.

Probably around the same time that James T. Kirk started calling his name while fucking himself.

~*~*~*~

He can't stand it any more. Two weeks have passed and every night his captain has been in the other room pleasuring himself and thinking of the Vulcan. Spock waits, unclothed sitting in a chair next to his wall for just one tendril of the captain's voice to make its way through the wall between them. 

0200 comes and goes. The Vulcan can't help but feel a hint of irritation that the captain has not started his nightly routine, until he hears rustling in the other room, the sound of the door opening and closing, instantly he perks up, and then his heart sinks in his chest.

There is the giggling of another. 

High pitched, slight squeals of lust and playfulness. Jim's deep voice, murmuring endearments and throaty compliments. Talking turning into moaned names. A thud against the wall where Spock is standing, now stock still. He knows that it isn't possible, but he places a hand on the wall, and imagines he can feel Jim's thrusts reverberating through the wall. He can certainly hear the slap of flesh on flesh, the woman's shrieks of pleasure.

Something inside him hurts.

Stiffly, the Vulcan turns and walks over to his bed, where he has neatly folded his sleep shirt and pants, and slowly puts them on, gritting his teeth as the noise crescendos into an orgasmic peal for both parties. By the time Spock's head hits the pillow, face blank, the two in the other room are back to murmured words and sloppy kisses, muted but still audible through the wall. 

Spock knows that he has no right to feel anything. Nor should he feel anything. He stares blankly at the ceiling, knowing full well that he should feel nothing. But he does. It curls in his belly, clawing like a rabid sehlat at his insides until he feels like he is going to be nauseous. He tries to tamp it down, but the flame flicks along his skin, and before he knows it, his hands are in fists and his teeth are gnashing together. 

By the time the two in the other room start up again, pounding away at the wall, his wall, Spock has already changed into his uniform and is out the door, four hours early for his shift.


	4. Chapter 4

After shore leave, things seem to have gotten back to normal. If the captain returning to his late night masturbation routine can be considered normal.

Spock has taken to meditating early, and dining after the rest of the alpha crew has finished, leaving his nights open for work, studying and restless stargazing. 

The first night after Kirk's rendezvous with the woman in the other room, he is back to moaning the Vulcan's name again at 0200 hours. Spock doesn't know what kind of a reaction he will have, he has assumed none. But his name on those lips was traitorous, poisoned honey. 

Even worse was the reaction from his body. The betrayal of his hardening flesh is maddening. He leaves, grabbing his PADD and heading to the Observation Deck. Once there, the calm quiet stillness of the starscape beyond the windows calms him slightly. Spock eases himself into the chair, relishing the silence in the room, and doesn't sleep that night. He doesn't need it.

The second, he heads straight to the deck at 0145. There is no need to wait for the sounds from the next room to tempt his body. As more time passes, he realizes just how foolish he has been, allowing himself to feel such unprofessional feelings for the captain. He immerses himself into work, all thoughts of Jim and what he might be doing gone from his head. 

Dayshift goes easily enough. He can constantly feel those bottomless blue eyes on his back during any lull in the shift. Perhaps his demeanor has become more brusque when answering the captain, he is not certain. He tries to maintain the amount of professionalism that is required of him, nothing more.

As he steps into the room on the fourth night, two hushed voices greet his ears. One, a low baritone, murmuring softly, the other, a soft tenor laugh. He stops in his tracks, easily picking out the forms of two men, huddled in one of the chairs together. Cuddling no less. It is not hard to distinguish the two by their voices, they are after all Alpha Shift members.

"Lt. Sulu. Ensign Chekov." He states, and the younger man nearly flies out of the chair. Both stare at him wide eyed, as if their hands have been caught in a cookie jar. "The Observation Deck is not an appropriate area for such displays."

Chekov stands, eyes on the floor, nervously wringing his hands. Sulu slowly raises to his feet, straightening his shirt. Both are aroused. Hands clasped behind his back, he breathes through his mouth, eyes firm on the both of them.

"My apologies, Commander Spock. Pavel and I were just. . . enjoying the view." Hikaru replies, standing slightly in front of the younger man as if to take the brunt of the reprimand. Behind him, Pavel is turning a bright shade of red. Spock almost sighs in frustration. So much for his place to come to for escape.

"Whereas I have no problems with you 'enjoying the view', that can be done without physical contact." He lets his arms come back to his front, looking at the PADD in his hand. 0154. Spock's lip twitches in dismay. 

Both men look ready to leave, the younger like a deer ready to bolt. The Vulcan turns on his heel, pretending to pore over a document on his PADD. "Enjoy your evening, but if you wish to be intimate, please do so in your own quarters."

He leaves before either can say anything. 

The two mens attraction for each other has been obvious for months, whether or not they have been seeing each other or not. It was only a matter of time. While there are no regulations against dating in Starfleet, he is not going to allow anyone to use public areas for fornication.

With a heavy heart, he enters his quarters in near pitch darkness, laying the PADD on his desk. Silently, he walks to the wall between his room and the Captain's, placing his head against it with a sigh. There are many other places he can go on the ship, but eventually, he will have to come back to his quarters.

That is the answer. He straightens with a new resolve. He will go to Jim and demand new quarters. On the other side of the ship. Far away from any noises that will keep him distracted in the middle of the night.

The sound is so slight, that at first, he thinks that it was just in his mind. A slight rustle of fabric against skin. It is then he realizes that he is not alone in the room.

 

He whirls, barking out a "Lights full!" Before stopping to gape in shock at the sight awaiting him.

At first, the lump curled in his covers is indiscernible. But only one man on the ship has that mussed dirty blonde hair, those azure eyes. The latter are widened and Spock can immediately tell what Kirk is thinking. He doesn't need any sort of bond for it. 

_Oh. CRAP._

They stare at each other for what seems an eternity, until the levity of the situation hits the Vulcan like a hammer. The air in his room is thick, musky. There are a pile of clothes on the floor he can only assume are Kirk's. He would never leave his own clothes crumpled like that.

Spock's eyebrow raises, and he cannot keep the indignance out of his tone. "Are you masturbating in my bed, Captain?"

The blonde winces. His tone sounds harsh, probably far harsher than Jim has ever heard him, except perhaps on the day his planet was destroyed. It's then that Spock realizes he is angry. Jim swallows, and shrugs meekly. "Well, um, you see, I have a perfectly logical explanation for this. . ."

An eyebrow raises, and despite himself, Spock knows that his skin is starting to flush green. "Are you mocking me?"

Jim's arms dart out in front of him, shaking in a 'no' motion. 'No way, I'm just saying you like logical explanations, and this one is really, really, logical, I swear! Um. . ." He trails off, obviously wracking his brain for some way out of the mess he has gotten himself in. 

Spock takes a step closer to the bed, inhaling deeply. Jim's hands smell of musk and heat, sweat and desire. He feels like it's a cloud fogging over his head. For a moment, he worries. _The pon farr?_ But that doesn't seem rational. He hasn't tried to mate with the captain.

Yet.

"Get out." He growls between clenched teeth, mask slipping. Sheepishly Jim peeks up at him, not moving an inch. Before Spock can repeat himself, Kirk dons a cheshire grin, and reclines back in his bed, evidence of his erection plain through the sheets.

"Make me."

The Vulcan inhales sharply, a moment too late realizing that he is yet again smelling the hot, sweet scent that is all Jim Kirk. Awkwardly, he takes a step towards the reclining man, unsure of what is going to happen once he reaches the bedside.

"Do you realize how many personnel regulations you are breaking by what you are doing, let alone by breaking into my room?" It is hard to keep his voice even when he feels nothing but anger. Anger and lust.

For a moment, it seems like it would be easy, rational even, to give into his impulses and fuck the captain stupid into his sheets. Perhaps that would wipe the smirk off of his face. But then Spock balks at such an idea, that he can even consider such a thing with his Vulcan teachings looming ever at the back of his mind. Could it indeed be the blood fever?

Or is it something more?

Jim shifts slightly, sheet slipping down his torso and exposing a pale hipbone. For a moment, all the Vulcan think about is his mouth on that pretty flesh, marking him, claiming him. Letting everyone know that the purple that would bloom would be from his own ministrations. He can feel his hands fist at his sides, fingernails pressing into the palms of his hands. Even more evident is his erection, pressing firmly against the front of his pants. 

Kirk sees it too. He grins, looking from Spock's eyes, to his crotch, then back to his chocolate eyes. Then has the audacity to lick his lips.

Spock is humming with energy, taut, like one wrong move will make him snap. He can't even breathe for fear that he will do something. . . illogical. He needs to escape. If he can get away, perhaps Jim will realize the error of his ways. . .

"Oh, come on Spock!" the blonde humphs in the bed. "What's it going to take for you to realize I want you?" He goes up into a kneeling position, and the sheet slides away revealing his whole, creamy pink perfect frame. His cock juts proudly from his body as Jim poses like a porn star. Spock wonders if the ability came from years of practice and looking at dirty magazines, or if it is merely one of the captain's premier abilities. He is willing to bet a mixture of both.

His feet move of their own accord. It's impossible to fight them, not with the blonde beckoning so seductively on the bed to him. Something inside him breaks, the thing that lives by regulations and protocol. For the moment, all S'chn T'gai Spock needs and wants bare and waiting in his bed.

Jim looks, as the old Earth colloquialism goes, like the cat that ate the canary. Brusquely, Spock pulls his black undershirt over his head, ears picking up the hum of appreciation from the other man. Blue eyes rake over his chest and abdomen, to the slight trail of dark hairs that descend into his pants. The Vulcan places his hands on the waistband, as if he is about to undo them, and pauses.

He can almost hear Kirk's heartbeat thudding like thunder in the distance between them. Seconds pass, and then a full minute. Then, almost a whine. "Why are you stopping?"

Spock raises an eyebrow at the other man, fixing him a calculating gaze. It is all too convenient. "You knew."

The blonde sags back on his knees, buttocks touching the heels of his feet. His grin barely falters. "Knew what?"

Absentmindedly, the Vulcan plays with the hem of his pants, knowing that the blonde is drinking the sight in. "You knew I was not in my room."

A hand darts up to run through ruffled blonde hair. "I came to see if you were here. . ." Jim scratches his head, the impish gesture making the Vulcan also want to feel those soft tendrils beneath his fingertips.

"And when I did not answer the door, you decided to take it upon yourself to enter, unclothe, and pleasure yourself in my bedding?" Spock states, and Kirk rolls his eyes. It's hard not to look at all of Jim, to take in the sight without wanting to ravage him on the spot.

"Well, okay. Not one of my best decisions, Spock, but I didn't hear you in here. . ." Jim rambles, before his mouth claps shut. But it's too late.

Spock's hands fall to his sides, a tremor running through him. "Didn't hear me?" Even to the Vulcan, his tone sounds harsh. Jim licks his soft looking pink lips and swallows. He has to look away. His body is still humming with pent up need, but now, more and more, he is beginning to feel as if this all has been some form of cruel joke.

"You know, from the door. I didn't hear you in here." Jim fidgets, allowing his ass to hit the mattress to give his legs a rest. Even in a position with his legs crossed, his body looks ready for the taking.

"You have been eavesdropping on me." Spock exhales sharply, overcome with a spark of irritation, and shame, the fact that Jim Kirk has probably known all along.

_Known that I have been pleasuring myself to the sound of his orgasms._

Spock half turns away, unsure if he is disgusted with himself, or with Kirk. He can see the other man shift on the bed, movements turning from proud to unsure. He is so angry right now. So aroused. But just seeing Jim wilt under the tension in the room doesn't seem right somehow.

"For the last several weeks, you have interrupted my work, woken me from my slumber, and made it so I could not function as I normally do." Purposefully, he strides over to his desk chair and sits. Kirk is blinking rapidly, confused. There is an awkward moment, the Vulcan not looking at the other man, but he can hear Jim swallow and fidget. Before he can utter another sound, Spock cuts him off. "Come here."

The blonde starts to rise from the bed, on his feet, and Spock quietly states a short "No." Jim pauses, one long leg tense and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Spock turns, chocolate eyes boring into those bright eyes. "Hands and knees."

The change in Jim's demeanor is immediate, crestfallen look exchanged with a yet again roguish one. The Vulcan feels as if he should be surprised, but he isn't. Depending on the situation, Jim has always been changeable. The blonde lowers himself to his knees, and the instant the heels of his hands hit the floor, he shoots him a coquettish look. 

By now, Spock has regained control. The realization that Jim is on his best and most pleasing behavior is slightly intoxicating. He would have never thought that having this little bit of power over the other man would feel so enticing. Perhaps it was only that he wanted Jim to feel as helpless as he had, all those nights alone listening to those needy moans.

Yet he would not be so cruel. Not with his own erection throbbing so painfully against the taut fabric of his pants, especially not with the way the captain is crawling towards him, back arched, ass swaying invitingly. He allows himself to sit back in the chair, elbows finding the armrests. Of their own accord, his fingers meet in front of his face, steepled together, as he scrutinizes Kirk with an iron gaze.

Jim can tell that he has his work cut out for him, the amount of apology showing through his soft blue gaze, like a child who has been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Although this 'cookie jar' is way beyond appropriate behavior for Fleet staff.

As Jim lightly puts his hands on Spock's knees, spreading them to make room for himself between them, how couldn't Spock throw rules and regulations out? Those lidded eyes, soft pink lips, tantalizing tongue that flicks out to moisten them. But above all those eyes, warm, inviting. Those eyes that stare at him as if this, right here and now, is the single most important event of Jim Kirk's life. 

There has never been another that has managed to make the Vulcan feel like this, let alone feel. Those hands slide up the inseam of his pants, ever so tantalizingly close to his cock. Spock fights to keep his gaze neutral, peering over his fingers as Jim leans forward and nuzzles him through the fabric. His cock twitches, and the blonde shoots him an appreciative grin. "Spock-"

The Vulcan's fingers come down, index and middle pressed together to rest on the blonde's lips, shushing him. "No Jim. You have been quite loud as of late. Perhaps if you can make it up to me, I will let you talk again." Jim looks slightly shocked, but then his grin becomes wider, and that tongue darts out to lave along those fingers. Kirk could not understand the implications of the gesture, nor the downright erotic nature of his response. Spock can feel his ears flush green, but remains stoic, retracting the digits.

Jim returns to nuzzling the lump in Spock's pants, and the other man has to fight to inhale softly through his nose. He watches as attentively as if he is collecting data for a report, in a way he is. More tidbits for his internal James T. Kirk file, every detail of the other man etched into his memory for all time.

The blonde strokes his crotch lovingly, bottomless blues gazing heatedly up at him from underneath his lashes. With a twinkle in those eyes, his hot breath sinks into the fabric of Spock's pants, past the thin layer of his underwear, and surrounds his groin. The feeling is heady, and the Vulcan squashes the urge to push against the blonde's mouth. He craves more contact-

Never one to think twice about a decision, Jim's face goes higher, confusing Spock for a moment, until the sound of a pulled down zipper and the loss of pressure against his cock tells him the blonde has used his teeth to alleviate him of one barrier. He looks down, meeting those azure eyes with his own, dark and cloudy with pent up lust. 

Finally.

Finally he doesn't have to listen through the wall as Jim needily moans his name. As Jim touches himself. It is his turn now, to revel in all that the blonde has to offer.

He is going to enjoy every moment of it.


End file.
